


Oh, How We Fought

by DarkUntilDawn



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, The Last of Us
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-04-18 21:10:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4720565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkUntilDawn/pseuds/DarkUntilDawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been 10 years since a special strain of cordyceps fungus emerged and began infecting humans, systematically taking over their brains and turning them into The Infected. Since then, the United States military, or what's left of it, has placed much of the country under martial law, establishing Quarantine Zones. </p><p>Sandor, a smuggler within a quarantine zone in Boston, sells weapons and drugs on the black market, often trading in ration cards for goods, supplies, or favors. An event occurs where Sandor promises a lifelong friend that he will take care of a young girl named Sansa as they escape from the quarantine zone and go across the country in search of the Faceless, an organization aimed at restoring modern society and finding a cure for the disease without the help of the surviving U.S. government.</p><p>On the road, there are scavengers, hunters, and other dangerous survivors looking to exploit the weak and naive to better their own situations; many groups see Sandor and Sansa as an opportunity. The pair must constantly do battle with these groups, as well as hordes of the Infected, as they make their way across the country to the Faceless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Yellow Rose of Texas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *EDIT* I fixed the formatting hopefully! Lemme know if this is better!!  
> *And yes, I did make Gerard Butler Sandor.....HES GORGEOUS OKAY?!?! At least I added the scar, right??  
> *For anyone with no knowledge of Texas, The Yellow Rose of Texas is referring to blonde haired women...kinda obvious but I'm just making sure y'all know.  
> *YOU PEOPLE ARE AMAZING!!!!! THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, FOR THE ENCOURAGING COMMENTS!!!! This may earn you an early release of chapter 2...*ahem* maybeeeeee

 

 

  


Slamming the door to his pickup he briefly glances at his watch. _Goddamn…its 12 am already?_ Walking up the porch steps he faintly hears the television static through the living room window. _How many fucking times have I gotta tell that hellion to quit leaving the windows open before sh_ -

“SANDOR!” He spots a glimpse of dirty blonde hair, so unlike his own, before he’s tackled.

Pushing her weight off him he glares, “Sarah goddamn it I told you to be in bed by the time I got home AND to quit leaving that fucking window open. You know what kind of low life shit lives in this neighborhood.” She sighs mimicking his glare before her face transforms into guilt.

“Sorry. I-I just can’t sleep in the house with this heat! It’s hotter inside than it is outside. I had to open the window, I promise I won’t do it again. Don’t be mad at me please, it’s your birthday…” Sighing he stands pulling her up with him.

“Hell, you know I can’t stay mad at your ugly mug.” He smirks down at her, barking a laugh when he sees the scowl she shoots at him. “Let’s get inside. I’m fucking exhausted.” Squealing she leads him by the hand through the doorway towards what he thinks is supposed to be a surprise birthday party. Construction paper streamers are taped to the wall along with a poster board proudly announcing his 22nd birthday. _Hell._

“I hope you like it. I know it’s not perfect and it’s not much of a party with no one here but us, but-I” He cuts her off with a look, watching her wring her hands worrying he won’t approve.

Getting down on his knees so he’s eye level, he wraps her delicate hands in his calloused, almost alarmingly giant ones murmuring “you, baby sister, can be such a dunce sometimes. This is perfect, all I could ever ask for. Besides, you’re the only one I’d want to be around at a party anyway.” She flashed him a toothy grin.

“‘sides this isn’t all of it. I haven’t even given you my present yet. Turn around and don’t peek,” she made a twirling motion with her finger. Rolling his eyes he covered them with his hands and turned around facing the front window. He heard her dash to the side hall to her room and stumble her way back. “Okay you may now turn around. He turned still covering his eyes. There was a sharp _"ahem"_ in front of him making him snap his eyes open and look down. She was holding a brand new watch, still in the box, in her tiny hands. He stared down at it in shock before chastising her.

“Sarah, how could you afford this? This is a couple hundred _at least_.” Her face crumpled before quickly transforming into a mask of mischief.

“I sold drugs. Hardcore. I’ve been workin’ the corner of Cooper and Spur 303.”

“Sarah,” he growled down at her.

“Fine.” She huffed “I saved up for it. No biggie. You pay for everything else and you needed a watch. Now you have no excuse for being late," she added, waggling her eyebrows.

“Sarah for Christ’s sake you’re fucking thirteen. You shouldn’t worry about this shit. Jesus,” he paced, running his hands over his uneven beard.

“And you’re _fucking_   twenty-two,” she growled, losing her confidence when she saw his anger rising. Deciding to continue anyway, she added “you’re stuck with me because of Gregor. You could have a life out there instead of being forced with me.” He felt his hackles raise with the mention of his name but when he turned to her to contort she was looking behind him through the window with fear. “What’s wrong with Mrs. Peterson??” He turned to see the neighbor bitch roaming her front yard with nothing on but her robe and socks.

“Jesus what is that drug whore doing out there at this time? She must be high again. Fuck, I better go get her in before she gets hit by a car. We will discuss this when I come back,” he glanced down at her.

Stepping out onto the porch he yells “Mrs. Peterson! What’re you doing out here? Where is Mr. Peterson?” Her head snapped up. _Jesus fucking Christ_. Her mouth is covered in blood dripping down onto her robe. Scratch marks litter her sickly green arms and neck, skin hanging on some of the deeper wounds. Her eyes are lifeless and yellowed but when she spots him she starts sprinting towards him. Backing into the house and bolting the door he dashes to the back room.

“SARAH GET IN YOUR ROOM AND LOCK THE DOOR. DON’T OPEN FOR ANYONE BUT ME.” He grabs his rifle from the gun rack in the closet, briefly hearing her lock her door before reemerging into the living room. He hears the cracked-out whore scratching the front door and breathing heavily. “Mrs. Peterson, I’m warning you. Leave us be or I will shoot you!” _What the fuck is she on?!?_   She starts banging the door making it groan against its hinges.

 _Fucking hell_. He is cocking the hammer preparing to fire when the door finally gives way. _Once. Twice_. Blood smearing the wall and soaking into the welcome mat. He hears whimpering behind him. He turns to find Sarah peeking around the corner.

“You _shot_ her,” she fixes an accusatory glare in his direction.

“Sarah-” he stops when his phone rings.

“What is it? Bronn? Calm down I can’t understand you.”

_“Sandor! You’re with Sarah right? Goddamn it it’s a fucking shitstorm out here.”_

“Yeah Sarah is with me. What the fuck is going on?!”

_“I’m on my way. Fuck! I gotta go, I’ll explain when I get there.”_

“Bronn?? _**BRONN** **?**_ ” he roared into his phone when the other end went dead.

Throwing his phone against the wall he paced, briefly glancing at the still bleeding body on his doorway. _Right_.

“Grab a knife and go down to the basement. Lock the door. Only open when you hear it’s me.” She nodded, mouth closed in a thin line and eyes wild with fear. When she left he rushed into his room flinging the mattress off the bed frame. Years ago he made a hidden compartment and hid two survival packs for him and Sarah. "Looks like my paranoia of Gregor coming back has finally become useful," he murmurs to himself ruefully.

He slung the packs over his shoulder and rushed down to the basement door. “Sarah it’s me, open the door.” Once he heard the bolt slide open, he walked in bolting the door behind him.

Sarah looked up at him whispering, “what’s going to happen now? I’m afraid.” A tear slipped down her cheek.

“You’ll be fine. I promise. I’ll protect you from anything, you know that,” she briefly nodded wiping her face against her sleeve. They heard a knock upstairs and Sandor shoved Sarah behind him.

“Sandor? Sarah? It’s me, Bronn. I’ve got the car running outside, we need to hurry!” They could hear him shuffle through the house looking for them.

“C’mon Sarah, hurry upstairs,” he whispered pulling her up with him.


	2. Drink the Pain Away

“Bronn, we’re down here,” he yelled, quickly lumbering up the stairs. He could hear Sarah sniffling behind him. _I have to stay strong for her, I’m all she has left._ Looking behind his shoulder he gave her a reassuring nod and tightened his grip on her hand.

“Sandor!” Bronn appeared at the top of the stairs. “Goddamn it everything is going to shit! We need to get out and get out NOW. I figure we can drive out of the city and make our way towards the old cabin off of Route 66. Lay low there and wait for the government to clean this shit up.”

Sandor nodded briefly turning to Sarah. “I don’t know what will happen out there. Put that backpack on, it has all the supplies we need. I need you to stay as close to me as you can and _don’t_ let go of my hand.” He waited for her nod and started to head for the door.

“Wait!” Sarah shouted, darting towards the living room. She reappeared holding the watch she bought him. “You almost forgot this,” she looked up at him sheepishly.

Shaking his head with a hint of a smile, he grabbed it along with her hand and ran through the door.

 _Fire_. That’s all he could see. Almost every house on the block was on fire, smoke dancing through the night sky taunting him. Dead silence, then he could hear the chaos. Neighbors, friends, all the people he grew up with were contributing to the pure horror of the night. Some were screaming, lit like a beacon running through the street. Some were kneeling, clutching their loved ones, sobbing sweet nothings into their ears; others were kneeling, _devouring_ their loved ones, smacking their lips with satiated pleasure. _This has to be hell._

Turning around he lifted Sarah up as quickly as he could, placing his arm under her knees and pulling her to his chest. She buried her face in the crook of his neck sobbing gently, whispering how scared she was against his scar. He couldn’t feel the tears, but he knew they were there all the same. _Please…if there is a God, let us get out of here. Or at least her._

He sprinted towards the car, Bronn cursing as he ran beside him. Wrenching the door open he plopped Sarah in the back seat along with his bag and jumped in the front seat. He shakily grabbed the keys in the ignition and turned.

“No, no, no, please _God no_.” With every turn the engine sputtered, wanting to start but ultimately failing every time. Punching the steering wheel he turned to Bronn. “What the FUCK man? What’re we supposed to do now?!”

“I don’t know man! It worked when I went inside to get you!”

“YOU FUCKING LET IT STALL IS WHAT YOU DID!”

Growling with frustration he checked the side mirrors and rearview mirror for those _things_ before kicking the door open. “C’mon. We’ll have to hitch it.” Bronn looked at him, then Sarah.

 “I’ll scout ahead. Meet me past the field.” He raised his gun, checking the ammo before running ahead.

Sandor turned to Sarah. “I’ll carry you Sarah. Put your backpack on.” He grabbed his bag, then lifted her again and started a full on sprint to the field beyond the street. He could hear her breath break with every footfall, clutching that damned watch to her chest.

“ **HALT**. **DON'T MOVE ANOTHER STEP**.”

Turning around slowly he saw a man dressed in army attire holding a gun.

“Thank fuck you’re here. We need to get out of this hellhole.”

The man eyed them slowly before speaking into his radio. “There’s a man with a child. They don’t look infected, what should I do?” He listened intently, eyes widening slightly. “But sir, she’s just a child! Yes. Yes, sir.” He raised his gun.

“ **NO, NO, PLEASE. WE’RE NOT INFECTED!”** Sandor screamed, desperate. He saw the officer’s finger find the trigger and wrapped himself around Sarah before hearing three shots ring through the night. He looked up, seeing the officer’s crumpled body a few feet ahead. Confused, he looked around and spotted Bronn.

“Looks like you could have used a hand. Or a gun at least.” Bronn smiled down at him before rummaging through the officer's clothing and picking up his gun.

Suddenly Sandor remembered. He looked down at the little hedgehog of a girl wrapped in his arms, breathing a sigh of relief when she looked back at him. Then she coughed, slightly wincing when she lifted her hand revealing a trickle of red.

“No…no, no, no, no. Not you. Please not you.” He hurriedly lifted her, turning in all directions desperate on what to do.

“S-sandor…..I think he hit me.” She dribbled some blood, grabbing onto his arm.

“It’s going to be okay. I promised, remember? You’re going to make it.” He glanced at Bronn who slowly shook his head. She sobbed, clutching at her side and looking past him to the starry sky.

“I’m going to see mama, Sandor.”

“No, you don’t speak that way. You hear me?!?! You can’t...” he hugged her tightly against his chest.

“It’s okay,” she breathed, smiling, before closing her eyes and going limp.

He choked out a sob, falling to his knees with her burrowed in his arms. “Sarah…..no.” He felt Bronn gently squeeze his shoulder.

“Sandor…man…we _have_ to leave.” He was looking at the wreckage in front of him. The bodies littering the ground like fallen crumbs. The _savages_ picking at them like starving crows. “I’m sorry….we have to go.”

Nodding, he got up, letting her crumpled body slide to the blood soaked soil. Then he spotted it. That god-forsaken watch. He quietly grabbed it and her bag before running towards the woods trailing Bronn. He didn’t look back.

 ---------------------------------

“WAKE THE FUCK UP.” He felt a boot nudge his mattress. “Man, what the fuck were you dreaming about? You’ve been howling all night.”

“Shut the fuck up, Ygritte. None of your goddamn business.” He sighed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before taking a swig from his bottle of whiskey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOA! You guys are amazing! Thanks so much for the support! I decided to release this one early to test the format etc. and get the creative juices flowing. I sat at my desk after dinner writing this and making the cover image so hope you enjoy!


	3. Changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SORRY IM LATE!! I caught whatever sickness has been migrating throughout campus and I have THREE exams this week...ugh. So sorry this is a short one!

 

Ygritte holds her hands up, feigning innocence. “Well I had to wake your ass up you grumpy bastard. We had a drop to make. Which _you_ missed. Almost got me killed.”

“ _What_?!?” He finally looks up at her, taking in the bruise already forming on her face. “We’re supposed to make drops together. What the fuck happened?” He rubs his face, squinting at her. “Did you lose the drop?”

“No. I’m _fine_ by the way, asshole,” she retorts, turning away from him and being rewarded with another huff. “Look. I ran by the Westside District, dropped the goods, and made my way out just fine. Not a hitch in the road. Then I get jumped by two of Petyr’s cronies. He’s turning on us. We need to strike now or we will be watching our backs until he finally gets us.”

“That slimy little fucker,” he growls pulling his boots on. “Alright, why do you think he turned on us now? There must be someone with a better deal. Or he fucked us over with the last order we made and he doesn’t want to answer to us with that one.”

“Only one way to find out,” she smirks, cocking her pistol.

\--------------

He’s walking through a thicket of overgrown brush when he hears hushed whispering.  He holds up a hand to Ygritte walking a couple feet behind him. Slowly, he put a finger to his lips and crouched down.

“Well, where the fuck could she have gone?!?!”

 _That was Petyr’s voice._ He glanced over his shoulder and met eyes with Ygritte. She nodded once.

“I don’t know boss. I _swear_ she was right behind me.”

Sandor crawled towards the chain link fence that separated them and Petyr to get a better view.

Petyr was holding the bridge of his nose, then _whack_! “I gave you one fucking job you stupid cunt. Do you know how important she is?!?! Go find her. NOW!!” He growled between gritted teeth before adding, “If you don’t find her, don’t come back!” He started pacing, then turned to go back inside the compound.

Sandor took this opportunity to jump the fence, making Petyr whip around with wild eyes. “Petyr,” he managed to growl out before hearing Ygritte land behind him.

“Hound, Ygritte! Two of my oldest friends!” He smiled, making a show with his open spread arms. “What brings you two here? I thought our next delivery wasn’t supposed to be made until next week.”

Sandor took a step towards him. “Cut the shit Littlefucker,” he spat, grinning when he saw the weasel flinch. _Good. He knows the Hound is out to play._ “You want to explain to us why you sent your people on us?”

Ygritte stepped in beside him, inspecting her blade. “You know, that little stunt you pulled makes me think you don’t have what we agreed upon. Where are the guns? Oh, and I’d be careful how you answer,” she smiled, briefly showing him the pistol she tucked in her belt.

He stroked his goatee, weighing his options. “Fine. You got me. I owed the Faceless some dough so I sold the guns.”

Sandor took a step forward, his face twisting with rage. “You son of a-“

“Uh, uh, uh,” he waggled his finger. “I got a proposition for you. I have something worth much more than those second hand guns. You just have to give me time-“

Ygritte raised her gun and shot him once in each knee.

He fell to the ground clutching his legs. “WHAT THE FUCK. YOU _BITCH_.”

In an instant she was holding her gun directly against his forehead.

“You want to call _me_ a bitch after you put a hit on us. You betrayed us and you’re not going to get off that easy.”

“I’ll make a deal! You can have all the profits on my next hit! YOU NEED ME!!!”

“That’s the thing. We don’t need you.” She pulled the trigger, flinching when some of his brain matter splattered against her cheek. She looked down sighing, “Great. This was my favorite shirt.” She looked over her shoulder to see Sandor standing with crossed arms. “What? He was just going to betray us again. Had to cut the head off the rat before it bit us again.” She shrugged.

Sighing he walked up to the mangled body, bits of skull and brain peeking through the gore. “Now we don’t know where our guns went to. You should’ve interrogated him some more.”

“He said the Faceless dumbass. We aren’t seeing those guns again. C’mon, lets go.”

They turn to leave, kicking Petyr’s crumpled body when they see a woman standing behind the fence. Sandor immediately raises his gun. “Who the fuck are you!”

Slowly she raises her hands and glances at the body. “I’m a friend. I can get you what you need if you can get me what I need. Petyr sold the guns to me but he also stole something from me. Well, someone.”

Sandor glances at Ygritte and weighs his options. “What makes you think we can trust you?”

Slowly she steps forward and pulls out a necklace with a pendant on it from the inside of her shirt. She pulls it quickly over her head and tosses it to him. “I’m a Faceless. We have those guns. And more.”

He lowers his gun and bends to pick up the necklace turning it over in his palm. It reads ‘Shae’ on one side and has a cloaked figure without a face on the other. He squints at her palming the pendant before tossing it back to her.

“Alright, let’s say we have a deal. What’s our end of the deal?”

“Petyr kidnapped one of our orphaned students. Red hair, blue eyes, about to your shoulder in height. She goes by ‘Sansa’. She is helpless out there. I just need you to find her and bring her to us. Simple.” She raises her eyebrows at him.

“You know where to look? I’m not going on a wild goose hunt”

“I have an idea. When we first found her she was hiding in the mall off of the highway. Chances are she went there.”

“Alright,” he holds his hand out to her. “We have a deal. But we get _all_ the guns back.”

“Fine by me.” She grabs his hand and shakes. “When you find her just follow the Faceless and you’ll find us.” She turns and disappears in the brush behind the fence.

Ygritte smacked him on the shoulder. “What the _fuck_ was that?”

He shrugged. “We need those guns back. We are looking for a little girl, this’ll be the easiest job yet.”

Sighing she walked past him. “Looks like we’re going to the mall.”

 


	4. From Eden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life's a bitch

The crunch of worn gravel was all that announced their arrival. The Westgate Mall- once a thriving beehive of business, now just an abandoned, corroded building. At least it matched everything else in the city.

Sandor stalked up to the entry doors, rattling the chain linked through the handles. He pulled on the door opening as far as the chain would allow and tried to reach through the hole. “How the hell did she fit through this? I can’t even get my bicep through this,” he looked to Ygritte, trying to pull his arm out.

“Not everyone is a giant troll like you, Hound.” She dropped to her knees rooting through her backpack. “There you are,” she smiled, pulling a small bolt cutter out of her bag.

“What, are you a magician now? You got a rabbit in that bag of yours?” he guffawed, being rewarded an eye roll.  Standing up, Ygritte pushed past Sandor and wedged a link between the jaws of the cutter.

“Here goes nothing,” she grunted, putting all her weight into snapping the link until she felt the resistance give. “There. Easy peasy.”

Pushing open the doors they are greeted with a stale, moldy gust of air. The bleak sunlight bleeding through holes in the ceiling illuminates the dust and spores floating through the empty space. Readying their guns, they step into the foyer. Manikins in different manners of undress and missing limbs are littered everywhere. Their disturbed humanesque shadows climbing the walls, poised to pluck up any intruder and engulf them into the darkness.

Ygritte wrinkled her nose. “She better be fuckin’ worth this man. I can smell the stench of the infected seeping through the walls.”

“Don’t worry, we will be in and out, no problem.”

“Whatever you say,” she shrugged. “The infected will be in the basement where it’s dark and damp. We should start upstairs and work our way down.”

Nodding, Sandor took lead and slowly made his way up the crumbling stairs. When the landing came into view he could see an infected roaming through an abandoned hall. It sluggishly dragged its feet groaning in pain, occasionally scratching at its rotting flesh. Its eyes were red and swollen suggesting it was recently infected. Stalking up the rest of the stairs like a predator on the hunt, Sandor crouched and made his way towards it. He knew it would circle back and he would have to hit it at the right time. If not it would startle and alert the herd which was surely nearby, and kill him. As if on cue, he could hear it shuffling its way around towards him. _Wait for it…_ Quick as sin Sandor whipped around the corner and grabbed it around the neck. It struggled against the asphyxiation, clawing at his arms and taking gasps of air like a fish out of water. When he felt it stop struggling he let it quietly slide to the floor.

“Right. Well let’s hope that’s the only one above ground.” Ygritte strode over to the body. Its skin was like a layer of clothes ready to be shed at any moment. It hung and folded in places where there was muscle and fat loss. Almost the entirety of its arms were flayed from the elbows down from rot and exposure. On its left bicep was a tattoo discolored against the sickly ashen flesh. It was a knife with a skull hilt that had a ribbon wrapped around reading “Too Tough To Die.” _Ironic._ Most of the clothes that remained were ragged and stained with blood and gore, but a nametag remained pinned on its shirt. Getting closer she unpinned it and inspected it. It was a GameStop nametag with alphabet stickers spelling ‘Isaac.’ “Poor bastard. Had to die where he worked. Imagine that hell,” she chuckled, moving on down the hall.

 She scouted a few feet ahead before abruptly stopping. She looked around curiously before peeking over the railing, allowing a view of most of the mall. Wide-eyed, she turned towards Sandor and waved him over emphatically.

He jogged over and followed her line of sight over the railing. Across the food court he saw a bob of red like a shark fin sawing through the scattered chairs. _Bingo_.

*Sansa*

Greedy hands grab for her, stealing every bit of her they can reach. She’s screaming with all the force she can muster but the only sound she hears is the ripping of her flesh and the sink of their teeth. She tries to claw and kick and _fight_ but all her limbs feel as if her veins are pumping heavy lead, weighing her down. The acrid smell announces the closeness before she sees its face hovering in her peripheral, dripping gore. The jaw muscles visible through the rotting flesh flex in anticipation of their next meal, so c _lose_ …

She bolts upright in bed with a scream. A sob escapes her throat as she wipes her sweat soaked hair out of her face. Taking in the surroundings of her bedroom with relief she sees a shadowed figure amble its way through her door groping the wall for the light switch.

“Sansa?” Her father whispers. He flips the switch, making them both squint from the sudden brightness of the light. “What’s wrong?”

Taking in the sight of his peppered hair sticking up in odd directions and the bags under his eyes from too many nights staying up, she sighs, “I just had a nightmare, Dad. You can go back to bed.”

“I don’t think it was _just_ a nightmare, sweetheart,” he smiles, crinkling his eyes. He walks over to her bed, sitting on the edge and holding his arms out to her, enveloping her in his warm safety. “Maybe telling me will help you get back to sleep?” She nods in the crook of his neck, soaking in the soothing sound of his voice.

“I dreamt I was trapped by monsters. They were rotting, almost falling apart, yet they still had the strength to hold me down. I couldn’t move or scream for help. I just had to wait for them to finish me. It was horrible.” She lets a tear roll down her face and watches as it stains the fabric of his shirt.

 He’s gone quiet, she doesn’t feel his warmth anymore. “Dad?” she whispers, afraid. Peeking up she sees his skin is ashen and sickly. Startled, she pushes herself out of his arms and scoots away to the other side of the bed. He’s slumped against her headboard, eyes glassy and mouth open as if wanting to protest. Her slight movement on the bed causes a loss of balance and his head lolls forward and rolls onto his lap.

Letting out a cry of surprise she bolts out her door to her parents’ bedroom. “MOM!!” she sobs, vision blurring. She shakes her mother fervently before pulling the covers back. She looks grief stricken, her beautiful mother. A jagged line freshly carved across her neck oozes thick, brown blood. She wants to vomit but instead she sprints to her siblings’ rooms.

This time she’s more cautious entering the room. She slowly shuffles towards the bed, extending her shaking hand to his covered form. “Rob?” she barely voices, fearful of what she might find. Willing her courage with all she has, she pulls his blanket down revealing a furry head. She sighs, relieved she hasn’t found another body. “Greywind, what are you doing here without Rob? Huh, boy, wears Rob?” Pulling back the blanket more she reveals jagged thread interwoven in the thick fur of his neck. Curious, she further exposes the fur, running her fingers through to feel where the thread was coming from. Rusty flakes stain her porcelain skin, alarming her to rip the blanket off the bed completely. Horrified, she sees her brother’s motionless body sewn to his dog’s head.

Backing away from the bed, she rushes to the adjoining bedroom that belonged to Bran and Rickon. She peeks in but their beds are empty. Worried, she dashes to the hallway when she passes the mirror. In her reflection she’s horrified by what she sees. Her eyes, once as beautiful as the Tenerife Sea, are yellowed and blood shot. Her beautiful copper hair is dulled and brittle, covered by a black hooded cowl. Her skull is visible through the spots of weakened skin and muscle.

“Sansa?”

She rips her eyes from her reflection to take in the image of her younger sister. “Arya… don’t come near me.” Her lips tremble as she steps away, avoiding her remaining kin.  

“Sansa, what have you done. What have you done?! This is all _your fault_!” Arya screams but her face morphs, faceless.

Her eyes snap open. She shifts, aware of the snoring form next to her. Breathing slowly through her nostrils, she knows. _I need to get out._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been missing, and I'm sorry. Well, I mean...maybe not. I mean I am a full time college student about to go to graduate school. So....i'm hella busy. And I've been miserably sick. I'm not going to die, I know, but hell I kinda wish it would come to me because I am in so much pain. BUT. I got this chapter done. I know i'm ultimately not going to be happy with this but that's just because I think my writing sucks. So if you enjoyed this, please let me know. I'm an attention whore and i feed off of feedback......GIVE ME LIFE

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! This is just a 'testing the waters' chapter. I lightly followed the game plot for this one so those of you who've played this will know what happens next..NO SPOILERS TO THOSE WHO HAVEN'T! Anyone reading this who hasn't played The Last of Us and plans to sometime in the future may not want to read this; I am following the basic plot to the game and there are spoilers, so fair warning. I will *try* to post at LEAST weekly but I can't guarantee anything..full time college student here! I have not taken grammar classes since middle school and haven't written for fun since elementary school so go easy on me-this stuff is difficult OKAY?! I am a Texan born and bred so some of my writing will have southern slang so if y'all don't understand just lemme know and i'll dial it back. Anyway, hope y'all enjoyed!


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